


For Those Who Wait

by sarhea



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU (Animated), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Smallville
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Alternate Universe, Community: smallvillebbang, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarhea/pseuds/sarhea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the AI was not so insane? Kal-el more flexible in his Crusade? What if the Kryptonian forms a bond with a teenage Hermione Granger? How would Clark Kent handle it? Not so good at first but much better when he’s more experienced. And Hermione Granger… well, like always she goes overboard to prove she’s worthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning (A Brand New World)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art work for "For Those Who Wait"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/30790) by fruitbat00 on LJ. 



> Warnings: sexual intimacy, coarse language, threats of violence  
> AN: AU-Canon, Canon-Divergence, Alternate Reality, for all the fandoms.  
> Spoilers: Crusade  
> Beta: BT  
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic, nor am I making any money off it. Hermione Granger and Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling and Scholastic, etc. Superman, Batman, Justice League, JLUverse belongs to DC Comics and Time-Warner, etc.  
> For: LJ Community smallvillebbang – 2013 Smallville Big Bang
> 
> Many thanks to fruitbat00 on LJ who has made some awesome art that really mirrors the story, a beginning and an end for two very different individuals.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never ever imagined she existed. She never ever expected she would have to make such a hard choice at her young age.

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

Kal-el frowned as he examined the data on the holographic screens, files collated by the Fortress. Cutting edge Terran science was terribly dated by Kryptonian standards. Full lips curled slightly giving his attractive face a disdainful look. Then he came across something… odd. He stopped flipping through the data files and looked up. The Fortress AI Jor-el was not ‘up’ and in fact all around, in the walls of the Fortress but Kal-el preferred to look up. Perhaps because his long lost homeworld, his sire and dam’s bodies lay in the stars not on this backward planet.

“Magic?” he huffed skeptically.

“Yes, magic,” Jor-el responded smoothly in his usual clinical voice. “Do not presume and discard facts because it is described in unscientific terms Kal-el. Remember the words of Arthur C Clark, a most insightful Terran writer.”

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

“Simplistic but accurate. Kryptonians were considered as Gods by less advanced races. Your other self disliked acknowledging that truth but it is reality. Kryptonians are much more advanced and capable than most Terrans.” There was a pause before the AI continued. “With a few specific exceptions.”

“These…magic users?”

“Correct. You are invulnerable as long as you have sufficient exposure to this system’s yellow sun. Invulnerable to all but two elements.”

“Irradiated kryptonite and this magic?” Kal-el ended the sentence in a question. He had never seen or heard of anything indicating magic was real. But then again to most of Earth aliens were simply flights of fancy.

“Correct. Kryptonians are especially vulnerable to magic. As you have experienced.”

“The witches? The ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“So how am I to defend against magic?” Kal-el frowned slightly. “Should I try to find a magical teacher?”

“That would be a useless endeavour. One must be born with the innate talent for magic in order to manipulate it. You need to find a witch willing to share her innate resistance to magic with you.”

Kal-el stared at the AI slightly concerned and wary. “What would be entailed in this sharing? Does it involve dancing naked under a full moon?” he asked mockingly.

“No. You will have to initiate and seal a complete bond with her.”

Kal-el went very still. A complete bond? That was…that was permanent. There had to be something wrong, some loophole. Surely Jor-el did not intend the Last Son of Krypton to be married to a lesser being?!?

“She will not be lesser. A witch strong enough to hold and anchor the bond will be worthy of the House of El.”

Kal-el wanted to protest but he held his tongue and instead tried a different method. “Wouldn’t it be less complicated to pay her to create the necessary protections?”

“Such protections are only temporary. You do not have the energy aura or the skill to fuel and anchor any enchantments. As your bondmate, the witch will fill that role for you.” There was a moment of silence before the AI continued. “I do not make this suggestion lightly. In the past Kryptonians engaged mercenary mages to provide defenses during their visits to Earth. Almost all those contracts ended very badly because the witch or wizard was over-greedy.”

Jor-el would not mislead him on facts that could be easily verified by an archive scan. And he was the Last Kryptonian apart from scum in the Negative Zone. If he took a consort, a wife, she would be Terran. A witch would be more able to protect herself from the enemies he expected to come out of the woodwork when he went public.

“I understand. Where am I supposed to find a witch? One close to my own age and comparatively open-minded?”

“Records indicate there is a magical school in Ancient Scotia. The students are eleven to eighteen years of age. I am certain you’ll be able to find a suitable female there.”

“Aren’t there any schools in America?” Kal-el did not want to travel half-way across the world even though it would only take a few minutes for him.

“Yes. But the one in Scotia is the oldest and most reputable. But do not presume this will be an easy task,” Jor-el warned.

“Why not? Teenage Terran females are very susceptible to an attractive male, one willing to flatter and cajole them,” Kal-el pointed out scornfully.

“Such a female will not be a suitable bondmate. A powerful, intelligent, witch will be more resistant to such blandishments. And the powerful ones are rarely uncommitted,” Jor-el explained. “Magical clans form contracts for their children in the cradle.”

Kal-el smirked. “I’m sure I can persuade her to choose me instead.”

“It will not be so easy Kal-el. Bindings, especially magical bindings are two-way bonds. And you will not be able to approach her without permission from her parents, her clan head, or her guardian.” Kal-el frowned. That would definitely restrict his avenues. “She must choose of her own free will, without coercion. You will Call and she must Choose to respond.”

“I understand.”

The crystal table surface shimmered and a large case the size of a bankers box appeared on it. When opened Kal-el saw it was filled with fist-sized clear crystals.

“These are amplifying beacons. Plant them all over the area marked on the map before meditating and initiating the Call. It may take several days to get a response so be patient.”

“I am always patient.”

 

~ooOoo~

 

It did not take long to plant all the crystals as instructed. One crystal per square mile in the area around the densely charged wilderness. Before Kal-el would have assumed it was a natural anomaly, the high energy charge in the middle of nowhere. Now he knew it was the result of magic.

He landed on a high vantage point, a shallow crack in a sheer cliff face that could not be reached by any means except flight. There was no signs of predator birds using it as a nesting aerie so he settled down and began meditating as he had been taught. It was time to make his Call.

Kal-el was looking forward to meeting his first living witch.

 

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

 

She was back again, standing in the middle of a vast expanse of a land covered in ice and crystals, a fortress of light and power in the middle distance. Her feet took her into the crystalline structure, into a huge receiving foyer with seemingly no ceiling. There was a boy – no, a man – dressed in black leather pants and a black silk shirt standing atop a pillar that rose fifty feet into the air with no visible means of reaching the top. As Hermione watched the man stepped off into thin air and almost floated to the ground.

When he walked towards her she could see his features more distinctly and realized her first impression was true. He was a teenager, a few years older than her but definitely less than twenty years old. And he was absolutely gorgeous with chiseled features, full lips and broad angular planes and blue-green eyes. His hair was dark and slightly curly, softening the over-masculine features. She wanted to reach out and touch him, his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his hair. She could see the muscles bunching and relaxing under the smooth silk and tight leather. He might have looked young but he was definitely cut.

By the time he reached her side she could feel her dream-body reacting, nipples tightening, an ache down there, dampness between her thighs. She clenched her fists and held back, not reaching out and stroking him like she wanted to. To her surprise, he touched her hair and stroked her cheek, ran a thumb over her full lower lip tugging it down slightly. Then he bent low and whispered in her ear, his breath warm and moist.

“I’m waiting for you.”

~o~

Hermione woke up from a sound sleep gasping and aching. She could feel the wetness trickling down her thighs, soaking the hair covering her groin. It was the fifth time in less than three days. She had never considered herself particularly sexual – she never vivid dreams or erotic fantasies like her roommates – but for the past three nights she had dreamt the same dream.

The muscles in her thighs felt like jelly as she staggered out of bed and tottered over to her dresser. There was a silver jug and cups set on top. Two cups of water later she felt more herself and in control. The dream was fading from her mind though the reaction induced in her body still lingered. She still ached for release, for something she had never experienced before. She had never masturbated before. Perhaps it was time she learnt how.

She settled back in her bed and tried to fall asleep. She had no time for boys much less someone conjured up by her subconscious. She needed to sleep, to prepare. Harry needed her help and it would take all her wits and intellect to navigate the mine trap that was Hogwarts. But then again a Muggle high school would not be much better when it came to backstabbing, cliques, and rumours. Hermione was tired of being the subject of gossip and Howlers. She hated the whispers and snide comments but forced herself to ignore it all because poor Harry was experiencing much worse with this whole Triwizard Contest fiasco. Harry needed her attention more than the stupid sheep.

 

~ooOoo~

 

Walking around Black Lake was the only exercise she got these days apart from the stairs. But at least now she didn’t have to listen to gossip and innuendoes from idiots who had no idea of what was real, genuine, and true.

She was feeling particularly frustrated and decided to add a loop that would involve some uphill walking to burn off some energy.

“You seem rather distracted.”

Hermione froze and spun, drawing her wand automatically. She wasn’t close to the ward boundaries. There was no way anyone could have crossed without the Headmaster being aware of him. So she relaxed only a tiny bit because he could still be a threat.

He was dressed in Muggle clothes, charcoal gray slacks and a dark purple dress shirt with narrow pinstripes under a matching gray vest. He was very attractive with his broad-shoulders, lean well-cut build, and dark wavy hair. When he looked directly at her all air left her lungs. It was him! The guy from her dreams. But how? What? Focus Hermione, she scolded herself mentally before gearing up to respond.

“You’re trespassing.”

He just raised a single brow and looked challengingly at her, daring her to do something, say something. He was too big and strong to be pushed around physically but Hermione did not want to use magic; he had no wand and was dressed in Muggle clothes. But if he was a Muggle why had she dreamed of him.

As though in response to those faded, indistinct memories, her body responded; her nipples tightened and she felt damp down there. The memories were blurred but some details stuck out; like the sensation of strong fingers stroking bare skin, firm lips pressed against hers, a damp tongue licking her and strong white teeth leaving faint marks on her soft flesh.

His nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply, as though scenting the air. Then he grinned wickedly at her. “You have dreamt of me _kaione_.”

In a flash he was standing just inches from her. And then he was kissing her hard, one hand pressed against the small of her back and the other against the base of her neck, both seeking to draw her close and make her submit. And the scariest thing was she wanted to do just that. It was not his good looks. It was his scent, his strength, his taste, his will…

She gasped when he moved his mouth away from hers, along her jaw line and down the corded tendon in her neck. When he bit her there she could feel herself becoming compliant, wetter. She reflexively dug her nails into the corded thick muscles in his arms. He did not even flinch, only pressed closer against her, the hard planes of his torso and thighs pressed against her breast and hip. He felt like granite, warmed moving stone. It wasn’t possible to be that built, was it?

“ _Kaione_ ,” he murmured in her ear. “You are mine!”

That was enough to make her tear away from him. “No! I don’t belong to anyone! I belong to myself!”

For an instant Hermione thought she saw orange-red flames in his blue eyes. Was he going to hurt her? Could she get away in time? Before she could try he seemed to regain control, enough to step back and incline his head abruptly. “I understand you are young and inexperienced but you have answered my Call.”

Hermione was bewildered. “What Call?”

“You dreamt and joined me in the astral plane. And now you were drawn enough to approach me in the physical plane.”

“You mean that dream was real?” Hermione was both horrified and curious.

He inclined his head. “Talk to your Headmaster. Tell him Kal-el of Krypton Called and you Answered.” And then he was gone in a flash.

 

~o~

 

Dumbledore was worried. First, Harry being selected as the unprecedented Fourth Champion of the Triwizard Tournament, and now the wards being breached? Why weren’t the wards providing him the details of the intruders?

“Headmaster of Hogwarts, I wish to speak to you.”

Dumbledore turned around quickly. The voice was unexpected, because the Guardian at the doorway had not alerted him, and it was coming from the window!

Floating just outside was a young man dressed in dark gray pants and a subdued purple shirt with narrow pinstripes. Dumbledore had seen many feats of magic, but never anyone flying without the aid of an enchanted device, like a broom or carpet.

“Yes, Mister…?”

“I am Kal-el of Krypton. I have Called and a witch under your care has Answered. She will be approaching you for explanations. I trust you will be honest and unbiased with her.” The last sentence was unquestionably threatening as small flames danced in his eyes. Dumbledore knew this Kryptonian could immolate him before he could even cast a spell or move.

“I will.”

“Good. Tell her I will respect her wishes, but if she Calls she will start the Second Stage.”

“Understood.” A slight pause. “Do you know her name?”

Kal-el looked amused. “I was interested in other things than finding out her name,” he freely admitted. “She is around fourteen, fifteen, with brown curly hair around her shoulders. She wore a red and gold tie. It should not be hard to identify her Headmaster. She is exceptionally powerful, intelligent, and sensitive.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I was speaking to her near the lake. She is returning now.” He pointed out towards the grounds behind him.

Dumbledore approached the window and looked in the direction Kal-el of Krypton was pointing. And his heart sank when he saw the witch in question.

“Her name is Hermione Granger. I will inform her of the treaty and her options.”

 

~ooOoo~

 

Hermione did not know how she managed to get through dinner. She could feel her magic surging with every distracted thought, her body aching for Him. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to ignore what she wanted and instead focused on her meal.

“Miss Granger.” Hermione stopped and looked up at Professor McGonagall. “Yes Professor?”

“The Headmaster wishes to see you after you’ve finished eating. The password is Blood Pops.” The professor gave Harry and Ron a pointed look. “Alone. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are not invited. And you are not going to badger Miss Granger about the meeting either!” she added sharply. “It is Not your concern and Miss Granger is not permitted to speak of it.”

It felt like a rock had settled into her tummy. It was real. It was not a hallucination. And it was serious. Hermione desperately wanted to beg for Harry and Ron to go with her, but then common sense pointed out they would be more trouble than helpful. Unless it was life threatening. Yes, if it was life threatening she’d tell the boys.

She dragged out her fruit salad dessert and nibbled on a small chunk of pineapple. She was vaguely aware of reassuring the boys that everything was just fine, maybe it was a request to tutor another student, or a special research project for the teaching staff. They did not believe her but had no other recourse so they fell silent. After consuming the last bit of cut fruit she picked herself up and made her way to the Headmaster’s Office.

“Blood Pops.”

The stone gargoyle guardian moved to reveal the moving stairs. Hermione stepped on and waited as they carried her up.

“Miss Granger. Thank you for being so prompt. Please sit down.” Reluctantly she complied and waited. She wanted to explore but she knew the upcoming conversation would not be all puppies and kittens. “Lemon drop?”

“No thank you.”

The Headmaster nodded and to her surprise he came around and sat in the other chair for guests. She turned so she could see him more easily.

“I understand you met a young man today, near the lake.”

“I don’t know him,” she blurted out immediately.

Headmaster Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I would be surprised if you had Miss Granger. He is not… typical.”

Hermione frowned. “He called himself Kal-el of Krypton.” She recalled his last words to her. “He said to tell you he Called and that I Answered. What did he mean Headmaster?”

Dumbledore suddenly looked much older as he sagged into his chair. “I know my dear. He stopped by to speak to me before he left.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a long and complicated story that has to do with ancient history.”

Hermione cocked her head. “I don’t remember anything about Krypton from the history books. Muggle or Magical.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s a buried part of Magical History denied and hidden until it was almost forgotten but deep down the old families have never forgotten.”

“Tell me. Please.”

And she listened as Albus Dumbledore shared a part of Magical and Muggle history denied or forgotten by both societies. Earth was not the only life-bearing planet in the universe and there was proof in the form of visitors, humanoid aliens from a different star system. These Kryptonians were stronger, faster, more intelligent, beautiful, better in all aspects but one: they were highly vulnerable to magic. This did not mean the magicals had the upper hand because Kryptonians were highly resistant to damage and very fast; fast enough to avoid spells and read the body language ticks of their opponents.

“We were most fortunate that the Kryptonians who visited Earth were not interested in enslaving us. They were mostly scientifically-minded, and interested in learning than conquering. And they could have easily done so,” Dumbledore explained soberly. “But for the House of El negotiating the Sol Treaty.”

“What does the treaty cover?” Hermione asked feeling slightly scared. There had to be a reason why Dumbledore was mentioning it.

Dumbledore looked very old as he slumped back into his chair. “It is the core for some of the older Traditions.”

“What traditions?”

“Arranged betrothals for toddlers, even babies.”

“What?” Hermione was baffled. How? Why?

And then Dumbledore explained the Sol Treaty which was still binding upon magicals and Kryptonians, the reasons why pureblood families always arranged betrothals for their children within months of being born, especially if the baby was strong enough to do accidental magic. Because if they were not bound then any Kryptonian could approach and court them. It was hard to refuse a Kryptonian since they were generally stronger, intelligent, and more beautiful than the average human.

“We were lucky,” Dumbledore added, “the Kryptonians who signed the treaty could have easily overpowered us by destroying our wands, enslaved and bred us like animals, stole our children and raised them half-trained for the sole purposes of anchoring their gifts shielding their own against other magical opponents. But they didn’t. They allowed the choice to be in the hands of the magical who could only be approached under specific conditions.”

“Kal-el wants to court me? Why?” Hermione was baffled. She knew she was hailed as the smartest witch of her generation but she was not the most powerful or the best in battle. She was an intellectual.

Dumbledore simply looked at her. “Kryptonians have their ways of choosing who would be best suited to them.”

Hermione remembered. “The dreams. He called it the Call.”

“I do not know the full details but I would presume he does. He Called and something in you responded to it.”

Hermione froze. “No! I don’t want this! I don’t want to leave the magical world!”

“You don’t have to,” Dumbledore murmured. “It is your choice. It always will be.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Is there a particular reason why you are fighting this so strongly? Are you interested in someone else? Another student?”

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m too young for that!” she insisted.

“Then why are you denying the possibility of a courtship?”

She blinked back tears. “He does not want **Me**. He wants a witch.”

Understanding dawned. “Oh.”

“I’m not interested in how good-looking he is, or anything like that.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Then you must tell him that.”

Hermione hesitated. “I don’t know how to contact him.”

Dumbledore glanced at the doors leading out to the balcony attached to his office. “I believe he is waiting for us.”

Hermione froze. “Did he hear us?” Frantically she reviewed the conversation, trying to determine if she had inadvertently insulted her unwanted suitor.

Dumbledore shook his head as he stood up. “Privacy charms.” Then he began walking to the glass doors. Hermione followed and hesitantly allowed the Headmaster to push her out in front of him while he waited just inside the doors. “Talk to him,” he urged. “Tell him your feelings, what you want.” And then the doors closed behind her, leaving her alone in the cool night air with a near stranger she knew too intimately from her dreams.

“Good evening, Hermione.”

Good manners made her respond automatically. “Good evening, Kal-el. I hope you weren’t too bored, waiting.”

He shrugged. He was dressed in the same outfit and unaffected by the cool air. “I visited several museums in Scotland. The smaller ones have very interesting, unique, collections.”

Hermione refused to get distracted by the bait. “I’ve thought about your offer and I have to refuse. I’m not interested in material things. I have a life and plans that I’m not willing to give up.”

He studied her sharply before nodding once. “Very well.” He picked up a maroon velvet box resting on top of the balustrade behind him and stepped closer to her. Hermione waited knowing it was useless to run. He opened it. There was a gold torc set with blue and red stones on top of a maroon silk lining. “Please accept this as a gift.”

She stared at him. “I refused your suit. You’re under no obligation to give me anything.”

He looked down at her and Hermione struggled not to blush. She could feel the heat in her belly, the muscles down low clenching.

“It is a gift,” he repeated. “No obligation. If you ever change your mind, call me.”

“And if I don’t?” she challenged.

He smirked. “You will.” He lifted it from the box and did something to make it unlatch and expand. Without giving her a moment to protest he pushed the collar of her robes back, unbuttoned the top two shirt buttons and placed it around her neck and it clicked as the latches locked.

Hermione wanted protest, to remove the torc and hand it back, but she didn’t, she couldn’t. She didn’t know why but every muscle froze in protest of her thoughts. Kal-el smiled knowingly and began floating upwards. She wanted to cry out and beg him to stay but she didn’t. Instead she watched him fly away, disappear into the night sky.

There was something cool and wet on her cheeks. Absently she swiped at it. Tears.

“Are you all right Miss Granger?”

She turned to the Headmaster. “I said no.”

“You did not stop him from putting the torc on you,” he pointed out.

“I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure?”

She could not answer, not with the truth and a lie was unacceptable right now.

“Why didn’t I stop him?”

“Your magic recognized the strength in him and found him worthy.”

Hermione frowned. “I know nothing about him. He could be a cruel bully for all I know.”

“Perhaps. But even wizards like Lucius Malfoy care about their own kin.”

“Kal-el is not kin to me.”

“But he wants you to be his.”

“He just wants a shield.”

“And your magic wants the best male, so your children will be strong and powerful.”

She wanted to say no, to say she wanted someone kind and gentle, but the Headmaster was right. Deep down inside she wanted someone strong, someone who could and would protect her from the world. She had thought it could be Harry, after he saved her in First Year, but the years after had proven he was unreliable, that he would chose others – Ron – over her. She had accepted it, that Harry would not choose her over all others, but it hadn’t killed the feminine desire to be number one on some guy’s list.

Dumbledore rested a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “Do not worry, Miss Granger. The House of El are honourable Kryptonians. He will wait for you to make the first move, and you will never be compelled into doing so. If you act it will be of your own choice.”

 

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

**TBC...**


	2. The Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds herself faced with a choice. Too bad it's something she really really wants. And she's afraid of taking that step.

<http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h376/sarhea1980/FanFic%20Art/SmallvilleBBang/smallvillebbang2013_mixW.jpg> <http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h376/sarhea1980/FanFic%20Art/SmallvilleBBang/smallvillebbang2013_mixR.jpg>

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

In the days after the unsettling conversation and lesson on Magical-Kryptonian history, Hermione focused on pushing the Headmaster’s words into the background. She was not going to be bound to a complete stranger, to leave her friends and family behind because of some stupid treaty! Subconsciously she still yearned to complete the bond, to have the stability and strength it promised, but Hermione was an independent witch with other things having higher priority in her mind; her studies and the fourth Champion, her best friend Harry Potter. She knew it was a trap, a scheme to hurt Harry, but all her research indicated there was no way to break the Goblet of Fire contract so she settled for making sure Harry survived in one piece.

And then the Yule ball was announced. That was another small disaster in the making. After it was all over Hermione wished she had followed her second thoughts and turned Viktor Krum down. Then the larger more confident part of her pointed out she had done nothing wrong. Even Harry had felt that way. Only that prat Ronald Weasley! That stupid, selfish, ignorant, boy!

Now watching the Third Task and waiting with a sinking feeling Hermione could not deny her instincts any longer. It was wrong! All wrong! She hurried down to the lowest benches closest to the entrance to the Maze. There were too many people around the Headmaster but she could speak to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor!”

The older witch spun around sharply. “Miss Granger, please return to your seat.”

“Professor, something is wrong. It’s too quiet.” McGonagall’s expression was pinched and annoyed but Hermione could see the worry underneath. “Please Professor. No one has to help the contestants, just go in and have a look,” she begged.

For a moment Hermione thought she was going to agree and someone in. Then her hopes were dashed.

“I’m afraid I cannot. None of us can. It is against the rules.”

Hermione lost it. “Screw the rules! Harry could die!”

“Then he should not have put his name in the Goblet!” Hermione recoiled. “I’m sorry Miss Granger. I’m on the edge. This whole situation is wrong.”

But Hermione was not buying it. People often blurted out the truth, their true feelings under stressful situations. Professor McGonagall really thought Harry had put his name in the tournament. How could she? _Because it is something James Potter and Sirius Black would have done_ , an inner voice pointed out. How many others felt the same way? Probably too many to count.

In that short span of time an irreparable crack appeared in Hermione’s trust in authority, in her teachers, in the Headmaster. Adults could be fooled, misled. They were not always right and the consequences of their mistakes were worse than losing points or getting a detention. The lives of four teenagers were at risk!

Hermione spun around on her foot and hurried away from the crowd. Sure she could try to get into the maze but there was no way she could overcome all the obstacles and find Harry in time. She wasn’t fast enough, strong enough… but she knew someone who was.

She ducked behind a stand of trees and leaned against the closest tree, the rough bark scraping her hands and forehead as she tried to concentrate, to focus on reaching inside, to touch the long denied bond between her and Him. It was just a thin silver strand, almost insubstantial like smoke. Neither of them had been putting any effort into building it but Hermione knew it would never dissipate, and once she Called him it would become that much more solid. But she had few other alternatives. None that could move fast enough. If she had a timeturner…

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and focused her magic inward, through the smoke-like ribbon as she Called inward and out loud.

“Kal-el! Hear me!”

 

~o~

 

_“Kal-el! Hear me!”_

Clark Kent jumped and nearly knocked over the postbox bolted to the pavement. He managed to bend it back into place before anyone noticed he had dented the metal. Though the other occupants of the sidewalk gave him odd looks as he appeared to be hugging the postbox. Nervously he smiled and hurried away.

 _“I need you! Please… I’m begging you…”_ The owner of the voice trailed off into noisy sobs.

Clark recognized the voice, it was the teenage witch Kal-el met. The one Jor-el said he would be marrying if she accepted the bond. Clark was not too interested in marrying a complete stranger and Hermione Granger clearly felt the same way because she had never tried to make contact through the bond. Until now.

Clark did not want to respond to her cries for help because he knew the cost of answering.

~o~

_“She refused me. She wants nothing to do with me. Shouldn’t I focus on finding another witch? One who is not so stubborn?”_

_“It does not matter Kal-el. You Called and she Answered. There is a bond between the two of you. You cannot initiate another one until this one has been formally dispelled.”_

_“But I said she wants nothing to do with me.”_

_“She may have said that but she is young and inexperienced. Only her guardian can revoke permission. Did he?”_

_“No,” Kal-el confessed. “He said it was her decision.”_

_“And she is too young to make it.”_

_“Then when? Am I to live the rest of my life with this hanging over me?”_

_“By her eighteenth summer she will have to acknowledge the bond and your claim or refuse it.”_

_“So I have to wait?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“But I need to find a witch who can protect me against undesirable magic!”_

_“I’m afraid you will have to wait. You are bound to follow her wishes. In case she accepts the bond you must be available to uphold your end of it.”_

_“And if she declines?”_

_“Then you must leave her be.”_

_Kal-el did not like either option, being bound to follow decisions made by another, but he did not see any other alternative._

_“Very well Jor-el. I will wait.”_

~o~

Clark wanted Lana Lang, Alicia, anyone but a witch. The thought of being permanently bound by magic to just one female was scary for a young man, especially one who already had bad experience with magic and witches. He could understand Kal-el’s logic, in seeking a witch who could shield him against magic, but being forever bound to a complete stranger? He glare at the paving stones remembering Jor-el’s words.

_“You are bound to follow her wishes. In case she accepts the bond you must be available to uphold your end of it.”_

He wanted to say screw it and run. It wasn’t Him who made the Call, who spoke to Hermione Granger, it was his alter-ego, his Kryptonian self. But deep down he knew he could not.

Clark Kent cursed low and harsh before vanishing in a blur.

 

~ooOoo~

 

Hermione paced around the stand of trees. One circuit, two, three, four. Before she completed the fifth there was a muffled boom and a gust of strong wind that nearly blew up her skirt. She whirled and saw Kal-el though he looked very different from the last time she had seen him. Now he was wearing a red jacket over a dark blue tee-shirt and stone-washed blue jeans and hiking boots. The attire combined with the wary look in his eyes and the distance between them made her feel something was very wrong. This was not the confident, seductive, Kal-el who kissed her, seduced her in her dreams, and made demands of her.

“Who are you?” Polyjuice? Hermione pulled out her wand and held it threateningly.

“I’m Kal-el.”

“No you’re not,” Hermione refuted instantly.

His facial muscles tensed and his brow furrowed. He looked torn before he finally began speaking. “I am Kal-el. Well he’s a part of me. An alternate personality.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a very long story. Are you sure you want to hear about it right now?” he asked exasperated. “You must have called me for an important reason, not to ask questions.”

Harry! “My friend, Harry, he was chosen to take part in a tournament that is so dangerous that in the past competitors have died. I think something is wrong. It’s too quiet in the Maze,” she explained quickly. “It should be noisy. There are four competitors and obstacles to overcome for them to reach the center.”

Kal-el frowned. “What do they look like?”

“Fleur is a blonde blue-eyed, gorgeous French witch. Viktor is tall and dark, Slavic features from Bulgaria. Cedric is from England, light brown hair and brown eyes. Harry has messy black hair and green eyes and wears glasses. Please help him! No one believes me but something is wrong. Harry has the worst sort of luck; trouble always finds him.”

Kal-el looked concerned and slightly troubled. “Is this Harry very important to you?”

“Yes!” Then more softly, “He’s my best friend.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything.”

“And why not?”

“As per the Sol Treaty I cannot interfere in enclave matters. I can only defend those I have clan ties to. He may be your friend but he’s not your relative.”

“He’s my brother. I protect and teach him! And I comfort and nag him like an elder sister.” Then more firmly, “I will kill for him.”

“A heart brother is an acceptable clan tie. But again I can only act if we are Bound. Or else I am breaching the Treaty. Besides I won’t be able to do much without an acknowledged bond to deflect the ambient magic away from me.” Seeing her confused expression he explained. “My kind is vulnerable to magic. That’s why Krypton agreed to the Treaty, so we had the option of seeking a magical bondmate who would buffer us.”

“I don’t care about all that! I want you to save Harry.”

“Then do you accept the bond between us?”

“Yes! Yes, I accept.”

“I have to mark you with my teeth and it will hurt,” he warned her, his expression torn between guilt and unwanted desire.

“Do it!” Hermione snarled.

He moved in a blur and was standing in front of her. He grimaced as he pushed her cloak back and tore the shoulder of her sweater-vest. Her blouse buttons were unbuttoned enough to push the white material down her arm, barring her neck, collarbone, and one shoulder, a bra strap. Hermione forced herself to remain still, to not fight. If she gave any indication that she did not want this –she really didn’t– but she would bear it for Harry.

It hurt when he bit her right shoulder at the base of her neck. His teeth were inhumanly sharp and his jaw strong enough to slice through more than skin, to sink deep into muscle. Her magic flared, but instead of attacking him it flowed into their connection, sealing the fragile starter bond into the formal unbreakable betrothal bonding. It was thickening, widening, allowing energy and emotions to flow both ways. He hated this. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t want an arranged relationship. There was a girl he loved though he knew deep down they were impossible. With This that fragile hope turned to ashes. Without love the only thing left was duty and family, friends. He would not let them down.

She could feel blood trickling down her skin, staining her shirt. He lifted his head and looked down at her with small orange flames in his eyes. She knew he could set her on fire with those eyes but she was not afraid. She could feel his determination to do the right thing, his honour. His foster parents taught him there were two ways, the right way and the easy way, and rarely were they both one and the same.

“We are One,” he told her harshly. “Wait here.” And then he vanished in a flash and gust of wind.

Hermione raised her hand to her bleeding neck. She wanted to use her wand to heal it but she couldn’t. It had to heal and scar, leave a mark of his claim on her. A rather primitive claim mark. Jewelry was more civilized but marks made in flesh were forever. It was hurting more now, from the saliva contaminating the wound. She desperately wanted to flush it clean but knew she couldn’t. His saliva would provide the unique identifiers to represent him in their bond. He was not magical and could not fuel a two-way bond like a witch and wizard could and she owed him protection. He was sacrificing his freedom for her, out of honour, obligation. He marked her so he could save Harry and help her world. By marking her, his future was forever linked to hers. She did not expect him to be faithful to her but knew whatever relationships he formed would be temporary or platonic. They were bound more permanently than a Muggle or even a magical marriage, literally until death do you part.

She waited growing more and more antsy as the minutes passed. The crowd was beginning to get nervous when no signs of magic or activity came from the Maze. Hermione desperately wanted to go and charge into the Maze but she didn’t because the others would follow her and ask how she got hurt and insist on healing her. So she waited in the cold for Kal-el, for Harry.

There was a now familiar gust of wind and Kal-el appeared in front of her. He was carrying Harry who was unconscious and bleeding badly from one arm.

“Little Hangleton Cemetery,” he told her harshly. From his strained, horrified voice she knew she was speaking to the softer personality, not Kal-el. “There are several bodies and a few maimed magicals. I– **He** killed most of them. The rest killed each other with their spells.”

Hermione nodded. “I understand.” It was what she had asked of him, to save Harry. She could not see the Death Eaters just standing by and letting him escape with Harry. Kal-el must have taken over at some point.

He looked down at Harry. “What about him?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Can you drop him in the center of the maze? I think the officials will be sending someone into the Maze to pick up the other participants.”

He nodded sharply. Then he hesitated. “Hermione, there was someone else in the cemetery. He was not wearing a mask like the rest and looked much younger. And Harry was screaming for someone called Cedric.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Cedric Diggory.” Then she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “Please, drop Harry off in the maze and leave. I don’t want anyone else to know of you. The Ministry will try to pin the blame on you instead of searching for the real reason why those Death Eaters were in the cemetery.” She touched his arm and met his eyes with a grateful look. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. Harry is my best friend.”

He looked torn before he finally began speaking. “Hermione you must understand our bond is acknowledged and unbreakable now. I know nothing about you and yet I am drawn to you like a magnet to lodestone. It’s still new so I can ignore it but the next time you Call I will seal it,” he warned her. “Do not ever approach me unless you are willing to take that step.” He hesitated, “It will not be me, it will be Kal-el who will respond to your presence. He is not tolerant or kind. If you take that step be prepared to submit completely.”

She nodded mutely, uncertain to say she understood because she didn’t. She needed to do more research on split personalities, how dangerous they could be to the people around them, how they shared memories/beliefs among themselves. Kal-el seemed to have two, his harsh side and this gentler one.

He relaxed faintly. “I have to go now.”

That was enough to jar her. “Wait!” He stopped. “Are you sure you can’t stay? Just for a little bit? I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will want to talk to you.”

He shook his head. “You can tell him what happened. I won’t stay and be asked to fight in this war because I can’t. I only stepped in for you. If you choose to involve yourself and fight it will be your battle and I cannot be involved in what is a purely internal matter. It is prohibited by the Sol Treaty,” he explained seeing her mulish expression. It cleared and she sighed and nodded.

“I understand.”

“If you survive think hard and make a decision about what you want; if you are brave and willing to bind yourself completely to me. Because it will not be easy thing being bonded to a Kryptonian,” he warned.

Hermione nodded mutely and watched as he floated into the sky and then vanished in a speeding blur. She fell on her knees and cried. She cried for what she was losing, for what her need had cost him, for what he would never have… the chance to have a life partner of his own choice. All because he was too honourable to turn his back on a world that was not his. He was intelligent and attractive and not part of the Magical world. He could have easily wooed a witch prettier and more connected than plain-Jane Hermione Granger. Sure, the old pureblood clans feared Kryptonians but if they had met and talked with him they would have had no issues betrothing their daughters to him. He could have had the resources of a large wealthy magical family to protect him instead of one know-it-all witch.

It was not true of course, Pureblood wizards hated and feared non-magicals and one who was more powerful and essentially immortal would have been envied and scorned. But Hermione Granger was too used to having whatever she wanted taken from her in school because she was considered as mature and too level-headed to throw a tantrum. Hermione had learned to settle for less, because she would never have what she really wanted in relationships outside her parents or academia. Now that she had the chance to have what every little girl dreamed of – tall, dark, handsome and Heir to nobility (even if it was alien nobility) – she found the steel deep inside to take a stand in her personal life.

“I swear I will never be a burden to you Kal-el. I will not interfere in your life or make demands. I will become a witch worthy of your House.”

 

~ooOoo~

 

That night she dreamt. She dreamt of a horrid misshapen over thin and tall wizard, with pale scaly skin, red eyes, and no nose. He was furious, and out of control, casting Dark spells that never reached their target because he/she was too fast. She saw wizards dying from crushed throats, dented skulls, and broken necks, being killed by her/his bare hands. She could see herself/himself, the cold implacable face of Kal-el, the familiar face of the male she met the first time. He was the driven warrior, relentless, implacable. His icy rage was enough to subsume the weaker/gentler personality who did not want to harm/kill. He/She did not care that they were living beings with lives, all he/she was focused on was the threat they were. They had chosen to align themselves with factions intent on destroying what was his/hers, his/hers betrothed, his/hers _kaione_.

They caused enough damage to make the masked-and-robed ones to run, more terrified of him/her than their master, the misshapen one. He was too slow, too weak, too tainted. He burned fast and hot from his/her flames. There was a concentration of unnatural energy that tried to escape but it was too weak. His/Her flames and aura wrenched it apart into shreds that dissipated into the night. The sight was enough to make those left to flee leaving behind only corpses and one terrified teenage boy. He matched his/hers _kaione_ ’s description with green eyes and black hair.

Something rippled on his/her senses, somewhere a glass globe was shattering releasing an energy signature similar to the incinerated misshapen one. He/She wanted to track it, to determine if it was a threat to be taken out but she/he had promised his/her _kaione_. He/She knocked the boy out gently. He/She did not want to explain his presence. _Kaione_ would take care of any explanations and the boy.

~o~

Kal-el did not know that the glass globe was a prophecy sphere containing a prophecy that had just been invalidated. The Dark Lord had been defeated by one who was not the prophecized vanquisher, one Harry Potter.

Fate was shaped by people who lived and made choices. Kal-el made a choice. Hermione Granger made a choice. Voldemort made a choice. All three led to Voldemort’s death. The only thing left of him were the horcruxes that would be hunted down and destroyed by Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.

 

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

**TBC...**


	3. The End (and new start)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they meet again it's on Hermione's terms. And she's ready to take the final step.

<http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h376/sarhea1980/FanFic%20Art/SmallvilleBBang/smallvillebbang2013_nofilter.jpg>

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

One-and-a-half decades later a plane was descending upon Metropolis City, Kansas, USA. Ten minutes after it landed the passengers began disembarking; the usual assortment of American travelers, businessmen, tourists, immigrants and contracted workers. Among them was a particular young woman around thirty. She had short sleek brown hair cropped in an artistic-chic pixie cut that didn’t quite match the navy blue business suit consisting of vest, blazer, and knee-length skirt matched with polished black low-heeled pumps. Over one shoulder was an oversized cream and black tote and in her other hand she was dragging a grey carry-on rolling suitcase with a black leather lap-top case strapped to the extended grip.

With the practiced ease of an experienced traveler she cleared customs and hailed an airport cab to take her to her hotel. She politely disengaged the taxi driver and sank into her own thoughts, the reason why she was in the States, in Metropolis.

_He’s probably forgotten all about you._

No. He wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. Though he might have preferred if he could have.

Trying to anchor herself in the present, Hermione Granger pulled a small hand mirror from her bag and smoothened the small fly-away strands in her short pixie do. She had lost half her long curly locks in a cache tangle trap and chose to cut away her remaining locks than use a hair-regrowth potion. Oh she could have trimmed her hair into a more professional looking bob but it would have only frizzed into a wild mane and look even more unprofessional than the short pixie cut. Hermione liked her short hair, it was easy to keep and maintain in the field and was less stressful when she needed to dress up for professional or social reasons. Her short hair stood out in both the magical and non-magical worlds but it had become her identifying mark, just like her wild mane of curly locks had once been her signature mark.

“We’re here ma’am.”

Hermione looked up with a start. The cab-driver was right. They were at the hotel.

Hurriedly she got out with her bags and paid him with a credit card. Once he pulled away she walked towards the main doors, nodding at the doorman before proceeding to the reception.

It didn’t take long for her to be shown to her room and served a light brunch. Muggle hospitality services were always professional and discreet, quite unlike their magical counterparts. Hermione poured herself a glass of cranberry juice and drank deeply. Cool, refreshingly tart, energizing. She only wished muggle travel methods were as discreet and fast, she hated trans-continental flights. Portkey would have been faster but entry by magical means would raise flags since Hermione Granger was a person-of-interest and tracked by all magical ministries. The ministries did have agents in the customs division of major muggle airports, but they didn’t have the funding to staff senior experienced staff 24/7 at all major airports.

It was child’s-play for Hermione to spot the junior employees working customs. They always looked ill-at-ease compared to the real muggle customs agents. Dressing in pure muggle clothing and accessories, some subtle deflection charms, choosing a queue manned by a bored muggle customs agent, resulted in Hermione Granger never being spotted by them. It helped that her passport was under Jean Puckle, her middle and mother’s maiden name. Ministry employees were rather unimaginative sorts, especially those dealing with the muggle world. A pity since the muggle world had so much to offer.

Hermione sat at the dining table and powered up her laptop to review her research and finalize her plans. She wanted to make her stance clear but she did not want to cause fear. Perhaps a traditional approach would be best, unmistakable to the two of them.

 

~ooOoo~

 

“Watchtower to Superman.”

Superman frowned faintly and tapped his comm. “Superman here.”

“You may wish to return ASAP.”

“The structural reinforcements have not been completed,” he protested looking around. The cracked dam was currently being patched and reinforced by various League members.”

“Wonderwoman can finish up,” Jonn countered blandly. “You really want to return to the Tower.” There was a subtle pause. “You have a guest. She is polite and quite determined to see you. And you have to see her.”

That sealed it. For Jonn to insist it had to be something serious, not a reporter or tourist.

“Understood. I’m on my way.” And then he vanished in a flash.

~o~

Green Lantern stepped down onto one of the many landing pads set around the Tower. He had just finished his mission and needed to complete a rotation doing PR duties in the Tower before he could take his down time. As he walked through the Tower he noticed there were too many auxiliary and primary members hanging around. Curious, he followed the crowd to the reception halls. There was a civilian sitting in one of the sofas reading something on a tablet PC. She did not seem bothered by the numerous eyes on her. Green Lantern was not used to that kind of poise from a civilian who was not a celebrity in her own right.

“Who is she?”

Black Canary turned in his direction. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “But she’s here to see Superman.”

Green Lantern blinked. “And Jonn didn’t put her off?” That was the standard operating procedure for anyone asking to see a particular League member. If the public wished to report any information or file a complaint they were directed to the Intake or PR offices.

Black Canary shook her head. “No. He took one look at her and asked her to sit down and wait for Superman to get back.”

“Did he say why?” Black Canary gave him a look. “Oh right. Forget I asked.”

Now Green Lantern was too curious to leave without seeing for himself. Besides he had two hours before his shift in PR was to begin.

~o~

Superman landed and strode swiftly into the Tower. He did not need to speak to Jonn or ask where his guest was located. He was being unerringly drawn to the public reception areas. There were many League members whispering, pointing fingers at him – they did not matter, nothing mattered, nothing but getting _there_.

The moment he broke free of the crowd and was in direct line of sight everything fell into place. She looked up at him, older and mature in features and carriage. The soft curves of her face had hollowed and become more defined lines and planes. The wild mane of brown, slightly frizzy curls were gone and replaced by a short pixie cut. She tucked her tablet PC into her bag and stood up. The curves of her body were unmistakable under the fitted charcoal buttoned-up jacket over a high-necked cream top and the swinging calf-length skirt. Instead of the expected stilettos or fashionable sandals she wore high boots whose tops vanished under the hem of her skirt. A quick peek confirmed they were knee-high and she was wearing leather pants under the skirt.

Superman knew he should be shocked, should be fleeing, but deep inside he was not. A stronger, more primal desire was taking control and oddly he wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t afraid either, her heartbeat was steady and scent soothing, but he needed to hear her say it. As though she read his mind she spoke.

“I am ready.”

It was satisfying on a bone-deep level to hear the words but he needed to be sure there was no doubts. “Are you sure?”

Hermione Granger smiled faintly as she unbuttoned her jacket, shrugging out of it to reveal the cream silk, short-sleeved, high-necked top, tucked into the waistband of her flared charcoal skirt.

“I have been sure for years Kal-el,” she murmured as she held out her skirt in a modified curtsy to go down on one knee, her face never turning away from his.

He was standing before her, just a few feet away. “There is no going back from this,” he warned. “Once sealed it will be forever.”

She just laughed. “I’ve spent the last few years tidying up my life and cutting ties.” She raised her chin and met his eyes squarely. “If you still desire, I’m yours.”

They ignored the sharp inhaled breaths from their audience, ignored the reactions invoked by the implication of her words. Because when it came down to the core essence of the situation, it was a personal matter.

“I only wish to know if you are certain, that this is what you want,” he countered calmly.

She tilted her head to one side. “I do not want just one aspect. I want all of you.”

He froze. She reached out and pulled a small box from thin air. It was flag and shallow, the correct length to hold an expensive pair of pens, a watch, or a bracelet. She opened the box and a soft red glow emitted from the contents, a broad gold band, a men’s wrist band set with red stones.

“Red Kryptonite,” Superman stated neutrally, inwardly struggling for control. He gave her a sharp look. “You have no idea what you are asking of me.”

She met his eyes calmly. “I don’t want you to feel you must hide your innermost thoughts and desires. I want the good, the bad, and the ugly, no pretences, no holds barred. I don’t want to wake up one day and find a complete stranger.”

“Do you think you can control him?” Superman asked idly. Deep down he wanted to hear her answer because it was her way to be honest, no lies or pretences. Did she think she could handle the darker side of his personality? How would she react when she could not? Because Kal had no concept of restraint or decency.

Hermione snorted. “I am not delusional enough to think I can control you – unless you choose to let me.” She tilted her head to one side as she removed the bracelet from the box. “But I think I’m the flexible sort, who doesn’t take personal insult for anything.” Her eyes flashed. “Except shots against my intelligence.” She held the gold bracelet set with glowing red stones out towards him.

Superman snorted faintly. “No, inexperienced, perhaps, but no one can ever say you are silly or stupid.” He took the bracelet and latched it around one wrist.

The change in him was immediate. His eyes flashed red and his posture changed, became more fluid and eye-catching, as he took two steps towards her. Kal was close enough to touch her but he didn’t. Instead he knelt to match her eye-level.

“You have taken a dangerous risk,” he purred, eyes flashing red.

She shrugged. “Life is risk.”

“And what if I don’t feel inclined to play the game? To honour the traditions of an extinct people?”

“Then walk away. Turn around and walk away and know that you will never find another who can anchor and shield you.” she retorted.

Kal had not expected such bluntness from her. “Are you even aware of what is involved in forging such a bond?”

She did not flinch. “I would not be here if I did not know,” she retorted. “After our last meeting I spent years researching the Treaty and Histories. I did not want to be caught off-guard like I was the first time.”

Kal smirked as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “And you do not fear for your virtue?” he murmured.

Hermione snorted softly. “A scion of El would never be so crude.”

“Red kryptonite brings out my repressed side,” he pointed out.

“And is that all of you? Long denied primal instincts?”

He sat back on his heels and smiled more genuinely. “It is a big part of me.” And was intrigued by the flash of mischief in her light brown eyes.

“I would be more than willing to learn what you wish to teach,” she murmured in low, sultry tones.

He laughed softly. “You intrigue me little witch.”

She pouted. “Am I really so little? I’d like to think I’m slightly under average, not tiny.”

He reached out and ran a fingertip over her lips. “No. You are not little,” he admitted.

Emboldened by his reactions she reached out and cupped his face in her hands. “Kal-el accepted the darkness and managed it. Clark denies the darkness. I made my bargain with Kal-el, with the darkness because I needed the resolve and ruthlessness that can only be found in darkness. I have my own darkness and made my own hard choices and I’m not afraid because I have a good idea of what to expect.”

He was pleased and impressed by her courage, honesty, and words. “And how have you spent the last fifteen years?”

She snorted. “More chaste than you have been.”

He laughed. “That was Clark’s attempts at normalcy, not mine.” His voice was deeper, more familiar to Hermione. This was Kal-el, the one who she met in her dreams, the one who made his claim on her.

“Did he ever find what he was looking for?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

“Not for lack of trying _kaione_. But you know better than most what it takes to create and sustain a bond with a Kryptonian.”

“Power, intellect and knowledge, physical influence, mental and emotional resolve, will and skill to apply all those aspects.” Hermione rattled off.

“Yes. Anything less is just a temporary affair.”

“I spent years expanding those qualities,” she admitted as she reached into the neckline of her cream silk top to pull out a black silk cord with a blue tapered crystal pendant. She pulled it over her head and held the pendant like a pen blade in her right hand, between her thumb and pointer finger.

Without being asked he held out his left hand. She carefully turned it palm up and used the blue crystal to score a thin line on the fleshy pad of his thumb. Bright red liquid beaded up against his pink skin. She leaned forward to lap at the red liquid with her tongue, cleaning up all traces. By the time she was done the welt had healed and his skin was intact, markless. She carefully replaced the necklace around her head and tucked it back under the neckline of her top.

“Last chance,” he warned in gritty tones.

“I have no doubts, or second thoughts Kal-el,” she stated clearly, loud enough to be heard by all present.

He grabbed her and was out of the reception room, through the closest doors leading to the outside. The faster League members were hot on his heels and saw him land on a bare expanse of grass used for photos or picnic meals. He set her down before moving fast, placing one large hand on her right shoulder to anchor her and hooking a finger from his free hand into the collar of her top and tugging towards her left shoulder, ripping the material all the way to the sleeve edge. Her exposed shoulder was bare and smooth, collarbone defined.

In a flash he bit her exposed flesh, cutting through skin and muscle, drawing blood, mirroring the old mark on the other side of her neck. It hurt just like the first time but this time Hermione was better prepared. The first mark set the beginnings of the channel that had deepened and widened with the passage of time. Now she drew power from all around through those paths, pushing her own magic as well.

Lightening and raw power crashed into the couple from the cloudless open sky. A halo of coruscating iridescent light framed them. Off-the-scale power channeled through her and into him. Her gray skirt and torn silk top burst into flames and incinerated into ashes that fell off her form, leaving her clad in tight leather pants and a corset-style top that matched the blue-black hide of her knee-high boots. His energy aura protected his tight-fitting clothes, though his cloak was a total loss, just fragments of charred material that floated to the grass like her own clothes.

It was too dangerous to approach them, not while raw power was channeling through them and flashing out in random flares striking the ground around them. It was ten minutes before the flares weakened enough to be controlled by Hermione, to be channeled along her skin and into her dragon-hide garments. They were strong enough to handle the excess energy without bursting into flames.

He lifted his head from her shoulder and looked down into her calm tranquil face, his mouth bloody and eyes unmistakably feral.

“You are mine.”

“Yours.” she agreed without hesitation.

Without breaking eye-contact, he mentally spoke hoping Jonn was listening in. _I’m not going to be available for the next few days._

The Martian Manhunter was listening in. _Understood Kal-el. I’ll clear you from the duty roster for a week. If you need more time to settle into your bond just let me know._

Kal-el, Superman, picked up his bonded mate and vanished in a flash.

Jonn teleported into the Tower and picked up Hermione Granger’s bag and vanished before anyone noticed. He knew there would be questions and demands for answers, but he was determined to maintain his friend’s privacy as much as possible.

Mentally he began composing a presentation and report on Kryptonian marriage practices and two-way bonds. He would need something on Hermione Granger and the magical enclaves as well. Perhaps Zatanna could help with that. A faint smile curved Jonn’s lips as he wondered what would be a suitable wedding gift for a Kryptonian and a witch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~**

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: End of my contribution for Smallville Big Bang 2013. Part 2 is outlined, like most of my sequels, just waiting for time to actually write it out. It is mostly the reactions/fallout of the last scene. Please go over and read other contributions for the [Smallville Big Bang 2013](http://smallvillebbang.livejournal.com/) and Review, Review, Review


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